


Haven

by RobotSquid



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-14
Updated: 2012-03-14
Packaged: 2017-11-01 22:44:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/362095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RobotSquid/pseuds/RobotSquid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set in the "Primary Colors" universe.</p><p>A set of brief one-shots looking at Darkleer and the Disciple's life after rebellion.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Haven

“I’m calling it official now. I’ve failed you as a moirail.” The Disciple made a face and set the cup down on the floor, pushing it disapprovingly back towards Darkleer. Beneath his shades, he was frowning, she knew.

“You mustn’t blame yourself for others’ shortcomings,” he replied, picking up the cup slowly and steadily. “I don’t understand how tea tastes like anything, to be quite honest.” Darkleer stared in the cup as if searching for some answer within its depths. “Or perhaps you should just learn to be less picky.”

“You know _that’s_ not going to happen.” The Disciple shifted her blankets around, laying down and stretching herself out on her back.

“I believe I told you to stop moving around so much.” Darkleer scowled but she only laughed at him. 

“But I’m _boooored_ ,” she whined theatrically.

“Then don’t twist your ankle,” he said, grabbing the cup and getting to his feet. “I’ll try this one more time for you. What exactly did I do wrong last time?”

“You let it sit too long.” The Disciple stretched her long arms above her head, yawning widely. “It got bitter.”

He nodded curtly and left for the adjacent room of the cave which served as the kitchen. The Disciple took in a deep breath and let it out slowly, staring up at the stone ceiling of the cave. She could hear it raining outside. The entrance to the cavern was further down another rocky passageway, and the acoustics were good enough that the Disciple could always hear somebody coming. However, visitors were rare. It seemed the whole world had forgotten that the Disciple and Executor Darkleer—well, Expatriate Darkleer, as they called him now—even existed.

She preferred it that way. It was easier. Calmer. She had had her fill of living the life of a criminal, of being hated and feared because she dared to believe something different. It was nice, these days, to stay in one place, to not worry about the next night or two nights from now. It was nice to just live.

Though it didn’t stop the regret from creeping up on her every so often. The regret of her own powerlessness, and how cowardly she was after all.

“This is the last time I’m trying,” Darkleer said, reentering the room with a fresh, steaming teacup. The Disciple perked up and held out her hands eagerly. Darkleer sat himself down besides her and warily handed it over.

“After this you will go to sleep.”

She stuck her tongue out at him and breathed in the scent of the tea. It definitely smelled better this time. She took a sip felt the warmth permeate her insides and melt into her bones.

“Aaaah…” she sighed. “Much, much better.” She eagerly sipped at the rest of it.

“Good.” Darkleer smiled at her, and she couldn’t help but return the gesture. Darkleer’s smile was the greatest thing. He rarely, if ever, let it show, and it was always small, a tiny upturn of the corners of his lips. Seeing it was like sighting a mythical creature, almost.

The Disciple had only ever heard him laugh once. It had been at her. She had fallen into a stream while trying to chase a musclebeast for their supper, and when she emerged her hair had been ruined, hanging stringy and wet over her face like a tentaclebeast. Darkleer had caught up, taken one look at her, and burst out into the most jovial, riotous laughter the Disciple had ever heard from him. Once she got her bearings enough to realize that she was the joke, she couldn’t help but laugh with him.

Darkleer spoke so quietly, but he had the strongest voice, the most unwavering sound. Hearing him laugh, seeing him smile…it was like watching a child break a rule for the first time: fascinated by their newfound ability, a bit frightened but empty of regrets.

The Disciple blinked, frowning as her vision doubled. She glared at Darkleer, who watched her with an unreadable face.

“Well?” he asked.

“It would taste good, yet I’m detecting…just a hint…of….” She yawned widely. “Sleeping drought.”

“Yes, and you’d do well not to fight it.” He bunched up several of the blankets into a makeshift pillow up against his massive legs, and patted it softly. “Lay down. Try to go to sleep.”

“Don’t wanna…” she mumbled, making a face, but she conceded anyway. She curled up in the blankets and smiled as she felt Darkleer’s solid, gentle hand rubbing through her hair. She purred in contentment.

“How you did anything without me, I’ll never know…” Darkleer murmured to himself. The Disciple giggled. “What?”

“Nothing…it’s just…when you talk….” Her eyelids were beginning to droop closed. “When you talk your whole body kind of…vibrates…it’s nice….”

“Shall I keep talking, then?” She nodded against his leg.

“Very well.” He nested his fingers deeper into her hair. “‘I opened my eyes and I beheld a great light, and it was the light of the sun, shining down without malice or cruelty over the whole world, and every color of troll eyes were turned upward and they were swathed in warmth…’”

“‘Bathed,’” she mumbled, correcting him. “Not ‘swathed’….”

“Ah. Forgive me.”

“You’ve been memorizing my book….”

“I can’t help it. It draws me, and your words are so beautiful.”

“They’re not my words…I just…wrote it down….” Darkleer felt her body change to dead weight as she fell asleep.

\---

“You are such a spoilsport. You hate fun, Darkleer. That’s what your problem is: you hate fun.”

“That’s a ridiculous accusation,” Darkleer replied, not even bothering trying to keep up with her. She stomped ahead of him, only to stop every several feet and look back, staring and waiting for him to catch up. “My idea of ‘fun’, however, involves a situation in which you do not get gored by a musclebeast who is protecting her young.”

“There’s no way I would’ve let that happen!” the Disciple shouted back. “Darkleer, you never trust me to do anything! I used to do this kind of stuff all the time!”

“That was before I took on the task of being your moirail. And believe me, it is a task.”

The Disciple huffed, crossing her arms in front of her chest. She stomped over the next hill, pouting as hard as she knew how, and Darkleer grinned to himself as she walked out of sight.

Almost instantly, the smile disappeared, as she suddenly called, “Darkleer! Darkleer come here, quick!”

Darkleer sprinted over the rise and found the Disciple staring slack-jawed across the wasteland to their cave. A white dragon with gleaming red eyes sat lazily beside the entrance, stretching and idly flapping her wings, staring across the wasteland for any sign of life. Darkleer grit his teeth and subconsciously grabbed the Disciple’s shoulder. He knew that dragon. Pyralspite.

“Let’s go,” the Disciple said, tugging at Darkleer’s sleeve. “They haven’t seen us, let’s just go find someplace else.”

“No, wait…I think I know whose lusus this is.” He reached for an arrow from his quiver and began to descend the hill slowly. The Disciple followed anxiously.

“What are you doing?!” she asked frantically. “Okay this is where I agree with you that something is too big to hunt! Darkleer, come on, let’s just go!”

“Relax,” he replied, reaching back and taking hold of her hand. The two of them ducked behind one of the many boulder heaps dotting the rocky landscape and watched the entrance to the cave. Pyralspite continued to flap her wings, exhaling loudly and looking exceedingly bored. The Disciple scanned the rest of the wasteland, completely on edge.

“I don’t think anyone else is here,” she whispered. “I don’t…know if that’s good or not….”

Darkleer smirked. “Redglare always did prefer to work alone,” he muttered.

It seemed like hours passed. The Disciple shifted restlessly, flexing her claws repeatedly, keeping her eyes in every possible direction to ensure they really were alone. Darkleer’s gaze never left the cave entrance. Eventually, Pyralspite shifted her weight. Darkleer and the Disciple tensed, and a figure came striding out of the cave. Darkleer laughed under his breath.

“So it is the neophyte,” he said. He strung his bow and quickly notched the arrow, then stood and began walking slowly towards the intruding troll.

The Disciple wanted to protest, but there was no point. She followed his lead, circling around to approach the stranger from the other direction.

Pyralspite saw them almost immediately. Her tail swished back and forth and she pushed herself up to her feet, growling listen and exhaling smoky breaths through her nostrils.

“Down, Pyralspite,” the troll said, reaching up to pat her on the nose softly. “Relax.”

The dragon obeyed, begrudgingly.

“Neophyte Redglare,” Darkleer said, approaching her with the arrow pulled all the way back. The troll chuckled and lifted her hands to show she had no intention of attacking. She dropped the white, dragon-headed cane to the ground, and grinned ear to ear as Darkleer and the Disciple came closer.

“Executor Darkleer,” she replied. “Or…expatriate, is it now? You know most people think you’re dead. I can make sure they keep thinking that if you like.”

“Would you say you’re in a position to be making threats?” Darkleer was directly in front of her now, the tip of his arrowhead pushed against the bridge of her nose, the bowstring taut and pulled to its limit. The Disciple watched it uneasily, knowing the string could simply snap at any moment.

“Oh, but it’s not a threat!” Redglare protested. “In fact, well…may I show you something?”

“And what would that be?”

She grinned wider still. The Disciple had never seen a troll with more teeth. She kept her attention focused firmly on Pyralspite, ready to act should the dragon make any sudden movements while Darkleer’s attention was occupied.

Redglare slowly, painfully slowly, reached towards the collar of her shirt, poked one finger inside, and lifted out a tiny, crude necklace. Hanging from a modest length of gray twine was a tiny silver symbol…Darkleer recognized it instantly. His resolve weakened, and he loosened his grip on the arrow.

“I know you are familiar with this…shape,” Redglare said, warily putting her hands down, her voice calmer. “It has become his symbol. His sign, if you will.”

“Disciple, come here,” Darkleer called. The greenblood hardly needed to be told; she scampered over eagerly to look at Redglare’s necklace. The symbol hanging there wasn’t anything she knew. It wasn’t even particularly impressive, it just looked like…a pair of asymmetrical…shackles….

“Disciple, do you know what these are?” Darkleer asked her softly, taking the sign in between two fingers. “…They are what he died in.”

She felt tears begin to push their way out from her eyes, burning and blearing her vision. “I….” She looked up into Redglare’s crimson eyes, and found the troll staring back at her with sincere sympathy. “…What does this mean? Why are you wearing this?”

Redglare slowly took back the sign and tucked it underneath her shirt again. “I’m not here to stay long,” she said, her tone unreadable. “But I wanted to seek you out. Because you deserve to know that his word isn’t dead.”

“But of all—of all the things you could have picked to be his sign!” the Disciple shouted, wiping her eyes furiously. “You choose _this_?! The things they used to torture him, to _kill_ him?!”

“I didn’t choose this sign,” Redglare replied, unfazed. “I agree it’s a bit morbid, but….” She smiled. “We should not forget what he suffered. We can’t let people forget what he went through because that would be tainting his memory.”

The Disciple swallowed past the lump in her throat, scowling intensely. “…Why did you come here?” was all she could think to say.

“To see if you were still alive. To see his leggings, and your book…and to tell you, if I saw you, that none of it’s forgotten. So if you were out here, somehow, thinking that all of it was for nothing…I just want you to know that it’s not for nothing.” She grinned again in that unsettling way. “I’m just one of many. And we all remember.”

“…Th-…thank you,” the Disciple said, overcome. She wiped her eyes again. She hadn’t cried in sweeps; she hadn’t thought of the Signless’ execution for so long. Maybe she’d wanted to forget it, subconsciously, and the thought just made her more guilty. What right did _she_ have, of all of them, to get a second chance at a normal life, outside of Alternia society, untouched by all its injustice?

“Are you going to be punished for seeking us out?” Darkleer asked, his face impassive.

Redglare shrugged and grinned again. “I truly doubt that’ll be an issue. Believe me, Darkleer, I watch my steps carefully. I suggest you two continue to do so as well.” She reached down to pick up her cane, then turned to mount her dragon.

“Wait a second,” the Disciple said, her voice small. Redglare stopped, looking back at her.

“…Tell me,” the greenblood continued. “…What happened to them?”

Redglare’s face fell. It was obvious who she was talking about. “I really think it’s best you don’t burden yourself with that information,” she said.

“Please tell me, please,” the Disciple begged. “Rosa…the Dolorosa was like a lusus to me, I lost mine so long ago, and she let me stay with them and she loved me…and the Psiioniic, he was so sweet to me, he was the greatest friend any troll could _ever_ have so _tell_ me, Redglare, what happened to them!?”

There was a tense silence following her words. Redglare looked at her stoically, though it was a thin façade.

“The Dolorosa is the property of seatrolls,” she said finally, her voice flat and steady. “She was taken into slavery by Orphaner Dualscar.”

The Disciple’s eyes flew wide at the familiar name. A sick twisting ravaged her stomach and her whole body went cold at the anticipation of what else Redglare could possibly say.

“And the…Psiioniic….” Redglare pursed her lips and stared at the ground, contemplating something hard. “…He is the Condesce’s Helmsman.”

The Disciple’s gasp was audible. Her head swam, the whole world spinning underneath her, and her eyes filled up with tears so quickly her vision was all but gone.

“I’m sorry,” Redglare told her. She climbed atop Pyralspite and the dragon took flight, sending tiny maelstroms of dust across the wasteland. The Disciple did not even see her go. Before the greenblood knew it she had collapsed to her knees on the ground and was sobbing like a wriggler. She felt Darkleer’s strong arms wrap themselves around her, and she grabbed onto him tightly, crying out into his chest, her small frame wracked with shudders each time she breathed out.

“It’s not fair…” she cried helplessly. Darkleer’s hand was stroking her wild mane of hair, his arms keeping her safe, not letting her be alone in her grief. “Darkleer, it’s…it’s not… _fair_ , why am I the only one…why am I still alive….”

“Hush,” he said gently. “You mustn’t say such things.”

“I don’t wanna…live the rest of my life…being safe and comfortable when they’re—they’re….”

“This is the life he wanted for you,” Darkleer told her when her sobs began to dissipate. “He would be happy to see that you are safe. He would smile to see that you have changed my stubborn heart. And I believe perhaps…that he would even forgive me, for killing him, because I am with you, and you haven’t been left alone.”

The Disciple had no more words, no more strength…there was nothing left in her but tears. She curled herself up deeper in the unmovable haven of Darkleer’s embrace, and stayed there long past the moment where she finally went silent. Darkleer picked her up gently, and she let him, and they walked back inside the cave, into hiding and obscurity.

\---

“Darkleer, will you just _try_ it!?”

“No!”

“You’re acting like a grub,” she laughed. “Come on, it’s _just_ a fish!”

“Your definition of fish and mine are grossly unmatched,” he replied. “That thing is a snake that somehow fell into the water and learned to breathe it. In other words, a monstrosity, and I will not eat it.”

“Um, it’s called an _eel_.” The Disciple held the black, wildly wriggling creature in front of Darkleer’s face and laughed as he yelped, taking several steps backward.

“Disciple enough of this silliness!” he exclaimed, his face flushing deep royal blue. “This is bordering on indecent behavior.”

“But it’s soooo yummy,” she teased, walking closer and pushing the eel closer to his face.

“Stop it!” He turned and began to run downstream, but the Disciple pounced on him, latching onto his back and dangling the eel before his eyes.

“It’s telling you to try new things, Darkleer!” she laughed as he cried out again, frantically swatting the thing away. “It wants you to expand your tastes so you don’t fight with your meowrail all the time!”

“Perhaps if she didn’t use words like ‘meowrail,’” Darkleer replied, successfully shaking the Disciple off his back, “I wouldn’t get so frustrated!”

“Boo,” she replied, sticking out her tongue and jumping back up to her feet. “I tried that nasty milk you forced me to drink, so you can try this!”

“I will not,” Darkleer insisted again, keeping his distance from her and the still-thrashing eel. “And that ‘nasty milk’, as you so lewdly call it, is a fine delicacy whose complex flavors makes it an _acquired_ taste and I don’t—”

“Watch out, I’m about to throw an eel at your face.”

The slimy creature hit him right between the eyes, and the resulting squeal from the blueblood sent the Disciple into fits of laughter.

“ _Why?!_ ” was all Darkleer could shout as he hurriedly ripped the creature from his face and threw it back into the river. “Why would you do that!?”

The Disciple couldn’t respond, doubled over with tears forming in her eyes.

“This is _disgusting_ and I need a towel!”

“Th-there aren’t any around, sorry,” she said, wiping her eyes.

Darkleer narrowed his eyes at her menacingly. “Very well. I think your hair would make a suitable substitute.”

“What—no!” she squeaked out, still unable to control her laughter, and bounded away as Darkleer gave chase.


End file.
